


Pizza Party

by WaldosAkimbo



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Sneaky Sneaky, and then these yahoos show up, klaus wants to do something nice for ben, pizza party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 05:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18329966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaldosAkimbo/pseuds/WaldosAkimbo
Summary: "I’ll get it for you,” he offered around the crisp white meat of the fruit. “Santucci’s is right down the road. Bet I could do it in under thirty minutes if it’s just pepperoni.”“Santucci’s?” Klaus debated, ticking his head with the same even measure of Diego with his knives. Speaking of, was he…oh, no. There. Diego popped up from the table and was wiping down his shirt, rejoining them in the hallway. Klaus smiled as he took the money out of his jacket and handed it over to Five. Five didn’t even bother to count it. He just rang his little half-eaten apple like an empty brass bell and was gone, the air vibrating where his body should be before it smoothed itself back out again.-Or-Klaus decides to get a pizza to share with Ben and then three other freeloaders just show up to join in. Seriously? Okay, fine, but just keep quiet.





	Pizza Party

**Author's Note:**

> I figured the kids should have a pizza party, even if Sir Reginald Hargreeves would absolutely never ever EVER allow it.

Klaus counted the bills before he wrapped them twice around his index and middle finger, folding them into a neat little roll and tucking it into the pocket of his uniform.

“No, I know,” he was saying, a liquid bounce to his wandering step. “I know. No preservatives, no caffeine, and it is _definitely_ not ‘allotted fun hours,’ or whatever bullshit he’s calling it these days.”

“Klaus!” Ben hissed. His hands were tucked up all T-Rex against his chest, fiddling with his tie. If they had literally _any_ other clothes available, dollar on the head they would have been wearing them. Which isn’t to say Klaus _doesn’t_ have a second wardrobe that doesn’t follow the Umbrella Academy aesthetic, it’s to say he just didn’t want to share yet and he kept it strewn around his room. That, and Klaus had to sell that nice leather jacket that had been snuck into the mansion for the money in the first place. “We’re gonna get in trouble.”

“Not if we _get away with it_ ,” Klaus sang helpfully, wiggling his fingers like he meant to toss glitter in the air.

Now glitter. Glitter was a hard pass, even for Klaus. Couldn’t sneak it in without it getting on _something_ and then Reginald would punish him by…well, Klaus didn’t want to think of it. But it’d probably be dark and cold and locked. And…nope. Glitter was not worth it.

A shadow striped the hallway and Klaus threw his arm up across Ben’s sparrow-thin chest, knocking them back into the wall. He glared at his brother, a murderous glint in his eye to _stay quiet_ _or else._ Ben gulped. They went into the dark slice of shadow made by one of the staircases and Ben shut his eyes, holding Klaus’s hand over his stomach.

The last thing they needed was any horror whipping out and knocking Sir Reginald off his feet. They’d be grounded for sure.

 _But dad’s up in his study_ , Klaus reasoned, beginning to suspect the shape wasn’t even a person and his poor brother—not him, oh no, not him by a country mile—was quaking in his leather shoes. He narrowed his eyes and ducked just as the butter knife put itself in the drywall.

“Diego!” Klaus whispered harshly. “Cut it out!”

Their own Number Two didn’t have the height of Luther or the grace of Klaus or the haughty, barely-suppressed rage of Five. But he took two steps at a time and his footsteps were silent. Perfect and poised.

Show-off.

“H-Hey! What’re you guys…doing?” Diego asked, reaching between them to fetch the butter knife.

He quickly smoothed down the pried-up plaster, his brow furrowed in concentration. Dad was gonna be pissed when he found it, but hopes of the hopeful that Diego smoothed it out enough that they’d have a day or two before anything was said, like _Number Two! You’re training is from six to eight a.m. with half an hour for breakfast, followed by tactical studies, followed by your physical training regiment followed by sparring with Number One in the yadda yadda yadda._ Klaus couldn’t even pretend to come up with more stilted shouting from Reginald. He’d get his own earful soon enough, that was for sure.

“Going out,” Klaus said simply, patting Diego’s arm.

“Klaus got—”

“Shh!” Klaus waved his fingers in front of Ben’s face again, snapping them shut like a muppet’s mouth. “Shhhhh. The less people that _know_ …the better.”

“Klaus.”

“Diego.”

“ _Klaus!_ ”

“Oh my god, shout much?” Klaus pushed on Diego’s chest, reaching to cover his mouth. Diego slapped his hand away and almost punched Klaus in the stomach in retaliation. He was so _temperamental_. Jes _us_. “If mom wakes up. If Pogo wakes up. If _Luther_ —”

“I like how you didn’t say ‘dad,’” said a soft voice from the other staircase, a mirrored twin set that came down to the foyer. The trio spun to face Allison, her hand trailing on the banister.

Klaus relaxed, tugging on his uniform.

“Well, I mean, he’s writing in his journal or whatever, right?”

“Or asleep.”

“Chyeah, right. Dad doesn’t sleep,” said Klaus, his head bobbing on his thin neck.

“What’re you guys doing?” she asked instead, squinting at Diego, who was still compulsively smoothing down the wound on the wall.

“Nothing,” Klaus answered first.

“Klaus wants to get p—”

Klaus slapped Ben in the chest again. Always the chest. Who _knows_ when that interdimensional horror show on his stomach would open up and grab his arm and sling him clear across the room. That would be so annoying. He’d probably break a wrist.

“Y-You guys…are getting—”

“Pretty sure we didn’t invite you,” Klaus said, a little shrill, stretching his neck up in the hopes of being the tallest of the group. “Okay? It was supposed to be a surprise. You’d get a little birdy in your mailbox, four to seven business days, and _maybe_ we’d share with you, okay? Because we don’t need anyone _snitching_ to Mom.”

“I’m n-not a….”

“Snitch, yeah. You are”

“Let him finish,” Ben whispered against Klaus, nudging him with his shoulder.

Klaus rolled his eyes too hard he almost fell backwards, twirling in a little circle and grabbed Diego’s shoulders. “Okay. Fine. Come get pizza with us.”

“Pizza?” Allison whispered, joining them at last. “Oh my god. Dad’s gonna be so pissed if he finds out.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Klaus, still gripping Diego’s shoulders. Diego was staring up at him, all pouty lips, all furrowed brows. Angry little gator, wasn’t he. Klaus patted his cheek and nearly got bit, which was probably fair.

“We can’t have pizza,” said Allison, crossing her arms. She said it so matter-of-factly that it pissed Klaus off. He wanted to shove her too. God, why was everyone _so close_ all of a sudden, huh? Give a guy some _space_? Klaus even pushed Diego again and stepped back, feeling enough air return he could finally _breathe_ again.

“I mean, we can. If you let me go out and get it, like I was planning on. And before you ask, it’s mushrooms and sausage and pineapple, no I will not be taking orders nor criticism, thank you.”

“I tried to get him to do pepperoni,” Ben muttered to Allison. Klaus bared his teeth in a kitten’s sneer.

“We can’t leave the mansion,” said Allison. “We’ll get in trouble.”

“Uh, we can, if we’re back before morning.”

“Have you tried?”

“Look. It’s not that hard. And, if only Ben and I go—”

“Why do I have to go?” Ben whispered, not for the first time that evening.

“Because, dipshit, I needed someone to be lookout. And _look_ what good that got us.”

Diego flashed his little butter knife between them again. Klaus sighed, staring down at it, at the perfect metronome sway of the knife, his shoulders pinching up to his ears and then sloping down hard.

“What, Diego?”

“Pepperoni. And I’ll help.”

“What? No. Mushrooms and pineapple and anchovies or—”

“You didn’t say anchovies!” Ben shrieked, clearly distraught by the addition.

“What? What, yeah, fine, shut up, Ben, I’m serious! Okay. Sorry. No anchovies. Uh, peppers? No.” He clapped his hands and pointed at his siblings. “Sausage! I got it. I remember.”

“Please, Klaus. Please? I’ll do your language course with you if you do pepperoni,” Ben said, his little fists slapped together in prayer.

“Everybody likes it,” Diego said, still twitching that knife back and forth and back and forth.

“It’s _my_ money,” Klaus reasoned. “So it’s _my_ pizza. And I’m going to slip out the window over there and go get it and bring it back and maybe, _maybe_ , we can all share a slice, okay? C’mon, Ben.”

“C’mon, Klaus….” Even if Ben was whining, he still trudged behind him, his reluctant shadow.

They got right to the window when there was a cough above them, a dry, deep note followed by the familiar timpani of the cane. Klaus went wide-eyed and shoved his brothers in the hopes to get them to scatter, Diego already rolling under a table and army-crawling his way to God knows where as Pogo traversed down the steps.

“Shit shit shit _shitshitshit_ ,” Klaus whispered, moving Ben behind the book case and poking him to hoof it down the hall where he could get to his bedroom. Home base.

“Master Klaus? Out of bed?” Pogo called, his voice a little pitched towards annoyance. No rage, no anger, just tired and resigned. “I’m certain Grace put you all to bed hours ago.”

“ _Go_ ,” Klaus said again, pleading for Ben to move, please, _please_ move. Ben almost went off when Allison gave a look, wrinkling her nose a little and shaking her head. She waved at them to wait as she stepped out to go greet Pogo on the landing.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I thought I had seen—”

“Pogo,” Allison said, brushing her hair out of her face. She smiled sweetly and stepped closer. “ _I heard a_ rumor _…that you were sleep walking and woke up in bed…forgetting this whole thing._ ”

Look, it’s no godddamn secret that they all have powers. It’s the whole ass-backwards reason they’re even _here_. Sir Reginald Hargreeves held no such reserves in reminding them they’re all adopted, they all have a weird reason for even _existing_ , and they are a team under the Umbrella Academy to fight crime. From the moment they could walk, that was known.

Still.

It was kinda weird to watch The Rumor at work.

The spell, as it were—and no, nobody was calling it a spell, but a flair for the dramatic is something Klaus felt naturally inclined to, _thank you_ —was set and Pogo’s eyes fluttered shut, his mouth going slack. He could have fallen flat back on the steps and passed out right there. It looked like he wanted to. But, no, the word had been sleep _walking_ , and that’s exactly what he did. He turned carefully and went back upstairs, guided by his cane and Allison’s ability to see him to bed.

Klaus let out that little ball of stress through another sigh and reached for Allison. “Fine. Fine, pepperoni,” he said and she grinned, taking his hand. “I still say it’s just Ben and I that go to get it.”

“Diego wants to,” Allison pointed out, squeezing his fingers. Was that a warning?

“Diego wants to what?” Klaus scrunched his face up in frustration, clearly pouting as he spun around to face him. The Boy took a bite of a crisp apple, making them all cringe from the elongated crunch and snap. “What’re you guys doing?”

“We’re just trying to get a single goddamn pie,” said Klaus, feeling frayed and worn out from this one simple little adventure he was trying to share with his brother, was that so hard?

“Pie? I’d be down for pie.”

“He means pizza,” Ben pointed out. Five’s face twitched, either in disappointment or calculating interest, and he hesitated before he shrugged and took another bite. The sound seemed to ring around them. Klaus stared at the little granny smith and wanted to slap it out of Five’s dumb hand.

“Yeah, okay. What kind?”

“Pepperoni,” Klaus said, the word long and long-suffered as he admitted defeat.

“I’m in. How are you getting out?”

Klaus pointed to the window he was hoping to sneak out with Ben. Five glanced back at it and pursed his lips, an unfriendly grin that tugged at his distinct jawline.

“Yeah, no. Reginald has that one on an alarm.”

“How do _you_ know?” Klaus asked.

“How do you _not_?”

“Because I stopped looking for all the damn boobytraps around here, apparently.”

Five wagged a finger. He was such a smug little bastard, always thinking he was two steps ahead on the proverbial chessboard. Klaus quickly slapped his hand down, but Five just zapped beside him and took another bite.

 _Crunch_.

God, it was, like, seriously ringing. It was so loud. Five was trying to get them in trouble for _sure_.

“I’ll get it for you,” he offered around the crisp white meat of the fruit. “Santucci’s is right down the road. Bet I could do it in under thirty minutes if it’s just pepperoni.”

“Santucci’s?” Klaus debated, ticking his head with the same even measure of Diego with his knives. Speaking of, was he…oh, no. There. Diego popped up from the table and was wiping down his shirt, rejoining them in the hallway. Klaus smiled as he took the money out of his jacket and handed it over to Five. Five didn’t even bother to count it. He just rang his little half-eaten apple like an empty brass bell and was gone, the air vibrating where his body should be before it smoothed itself back out again.

“Do you think it hurts?” Klaus asked conversationally, leaning against the bookshelf, resting both elbows at shoulder height. “Getting squeezed into a wormhole like that?”

“Does it hurt to use your powers?” Allison asked, clearly teasing him.

“Every damn day,” Klaus answered with the same smile, rocking his hips left and right. “The dead are a headache.”

“You’re a headache, Klaus.”

“ _Girl_ , let me tell you….”

“I don’t like ripping people apart,” Ben admitted quietly, his head hung low while he fiddled with his fingernails. Klaus looked at him for a moment and finally patted his arms.

“I know, buddy. I know.”

“What if more comes out and it rips me apart?”

“Mmm….gross.”

“Yeah, but what if?”

“What if? What if the house burns down or old Russian ladies start popping up or, hell, the moon crashes to the earth. What if. It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry so much, okay?”

They worried. Klaus, right, he worried. But he wasn’t just going to _say_ he did. No. Instead, to kill time, they bet Diego to curve the butter knife around the vase standing on a half-column down the hall. Or around Klaus’s head as he made bizarre shapes of his body against the wall. They almost got to see what a circumcision was like first-hand when there was a knock on the glass window. They turned to look before the familiar face was gone and another warp in the air announced Five’s return. He stepped out next to Allison, brandishing the box.

“One large pepperoni, no anchovies, and a side of garlic knots.”

“Hey! I didn’t say to get garlic knots.” Klaus stepped away from the knife-pocked wall, clapping shut an old copy of Goethe’s _Faust_ that he was going to use to bat Diego’s knife away, should the trajectory go a little too far to the left. “You were supposed to bring back change!”

“Finder’s fee.”

“Finder’s fee my ass.”

Diego slapped Klaus on said ass as he went to Five, Allison already snagging a slice. Klaus squeaked, arching away from the contact, and spun when Ben caught his arm.

“Thanks for the pizza,” he whispered.

“I _was_ gonna get you pepperoni,” Klaus answered back just as quiet, leaning his forehead against his brother for a moment.

“Oh, I know. Still.”

They decided to return to Klaus’s room. The distinct white and red box could be hidden under his bed, and there were clothes scattered around to throw them off the trail, all of them secret and strange, that did not conform to the Academy’s uniform. How he kept getting them in the house, he never said, and never admitted that half of them came anonymously from Grace, who thought he’d like the ruffled blouse or the striped pants or that tulle skirt. It was something to crash on while they shared secret slices and wiped greasy garlic oil off their chins and laughed into nearly silent hysterics into their fists. Even Five almost coughed up a pepperoni trying not to make too much noise at one of Klaus’s dumb stories, regaled in French and learned from a drowned seaman who came to him begging for something. He skipped over the revenge part and got to the story about the brothel. Yeah, maybe he didn’t talk to the dead _that_ much, and especially when they all came at once, but a few of them had a good yarn or two.

It was warm. It was cozy. It was safe to sleep on the floor for a bit, holding Diego’s hand, holding Ben’s arm, Five and Allison fighting for the actual bed until Allison got her feet on the pillow and Five just held onto her legs like one might imagine a teddy bear trapped in some other little kid’s arms.

They wanted to invite Luther and Vanya, but by the time the pizza was gone, with the children in their little nests and almost asleep, they’d forgotten the slight against their missing siblings. Even half-awake, each of them was deciding their own alibi if any evidence was caught of their midnight pizza party. Nothing was perfect. Nothing in their lives was ever that brilliant, happy, flawless moment of childhood innocence, so they took the imperfect and tucked them deep down instead. They digested them like mediocre pizza.

Grace was the one to carry them to their rooms before the house alarm went off. She threw out the pizza box in the incinerator pile – nobody was going to comment on the very faint and pleasant garlic smell that came up from the fire. She tucked them in. She left a new jacket on Klaus’s floor to find amongst the rest of them, maybe to keep, maybe to sell and get money to buy another random pizza sometime in the future.

 


End file.
